


the first time ever I saw your face

by sweetrevenge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining, Rimming, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, also basically it's 5k words of harry being in love with louis which yeah, i hope u like it, it's very fluffy, there is a twist, this fic is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetrevenge/pseuds/sweetrevenge
Summary: “Hi, is this seat taken?” The stranger asks and Harry swears he short circuits for a moment. He’s been staring at him from across the bar all night and he still doesn’t feel prepared to see him this close up. He gazes at the stranger for what probably is an inappropriately long amount of time, eyes catching on things he hadn't noticed when he was sitting so far away.He opens his mouth to say “No, please sit” but then...“Did you know that center bit of citrus fruit is called a juice sac?”Harry is a little bit enamored with the gorgeous stranger sitting across from him at the bar.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 90
Kudos: 382





	the first time ever I saw your face

**Author's Note:**

>   
> I hope you like enjoy this lil fic that sort of poured out of me!!! I haven't written a fic in almost five years so let me know if you like it :)  
>    
> I'm on tumblr as cocoalou so please come chat with me [here!](https://cocoalou.tumblr.com/)  
>    
> You can also reblog the fic moodboard [here!](https://cocoalou.tumblr.com/post/623137002840375296/title-the-first-time-ever-i-saw-your-face-author)  
>    
> 

  
It’s just nearing 9 pm when Harry first sees _him_.

He’s across the bar, sitting alone and perched casually on a bar stool, grinning up at the bartender while he nurses a beer. So completely unaware that he was currently upending every thought, emotion, and feeling Harry had ever had because, my God, there was _something_ about him.

And wasn’t that just unfair? That Harry was currently having an actual crisis because of some beautiful stranger and said beautiful stranger was fully clueless about how he was affecting the people around him! Harry can feel his insides squirm into knots and his head get a little warm and fuzzy from just his presence.

As soon as he saw the stranger, he captured his attention. He had to do a real-life double-take when he first laid eyes on him, had to ensure that he wasn’t just seeing things and that this angel with the shaggy brown hair that seemed to gracefully fall across his profile, was real and not a figment of Harry’s semi-tipsy imagination. Had to take a minute to reign in the thoughts he was having about his smile and his laugh and his ears.

And okay, Harry’s never felt some type of way about another person’s ears, so yeah, he knows this stranger is going to be a real problem.

* ˚ ✵ · . ✵ +

He’s had almost a perfect view of him all night.

They’re both sat at opposite ends of the U shaped bar, nothing but the occasional blur of the bartender or barbacks obscuring his eye-line. Harry could immediately make out piercing blue eyes and delicate hands that wrap around the neck of his bottle of Stella, condensation dripping down the side and pooling on the deep brown of the bar.

Harry can’t even muster up a bit of concern for the inevitable water stains on the beautiful wood, that’s just how much this man has clouded his head, swimming in it, pitching a tent in it, making a home out of the folds of his brain. Harry would happily make space in his head for this man. Hell, he could live inside his cerebellum, controlling his movements like Remy from Ratatouille and Harry would be pleased.

He’s got slender fingers and his hands are strong and there’s this one vein across the top of his left hand that sends a shockwave straight to Harry’s groin. He’s just to the point of drunk that his face gets pink when he thinks about how that hand would look around his length or tiptoeing across his chest, or if he’s being really honest, holding his hand during a date.

He’s got on a long-sleeved top, but it’s sort of off-white, so Harry can see that the tattoos marking his wrists also travel up his arms, dark ink barely visible through the fabric that he’s happy to see strains against some impressive biceps. His left hand is gesticulating wildly, in deep conversation with the brunette bartender, but Harry can see a ‘2’ on his ring finger and an ‘8’ on his middle finger.

He’s instantly curious. Both at what exactly the significance of “2” and “8” could mean, especially if it’s tattooed so blatantly for anyone to see, and at what exactly the stranger is talking to the bartender about.

Ever since Harry spotted him, the two have been in conversation. He’s wondering if maybe they’re pals or if the stranger is just one of those people who makes friends fast.

He’s pretty sure it’s the latter because even though his profile is all sharp angles and scruffy facial hair, there’s a softness around his eyes, crinkles forming when he beams, which he seems to do a lot.

That smile seems like it’d disarm anyone - it certainly draws Harry in and he can feel his lips form into a secret little grin, even though he’s clueless as to what they’re talking about over there.

Before Harry knows it, his drink is half empty and he finds himself chewing ferociously on the little red straw in his gin and tonic.

He had tried to tell the bartender that he didn’t need a straw because you know, save the environment and all that, but inevitably a pesky little red straw ended up in all of his drinks tonight. He’s grateful for the distraction of it now though because chewing on it means he’s sort of still tied to reality instead of the dream world he usually falls into when faced with devastatingly attractive men.

Harry sighs heavily. He checks his watch and realizes it’s nearing ten now, almost an hour since he had first seen him.

Wow, time flies when you’re fantasizing about having a stranger’s babies.

He’s still sneaking glances in what he hopes has been a totally chill and very casual way, finishing the last half of his fourth and final gin and tonic a bit slower since he had forced himself to take a tequila shot when he first saw the stranger, knowing that he wanted to potentially, maybe, possibly, try to go up to him at some point.

Harry is sufficiently tipsy now and he’s feeling okay about trying to approach the man. Maybe even a little bit confident now that he’s pretty sure the guy isn't meeting friends or a date.

After all, Harry’s got on a new sweater and comfy plaid trousers, a couple of new rings on his hands, and his pearl necklace is laying prettily on his neck. He’s fully ready to wow this stranger.

He’s just about to do it, get up from his barstool and stride over to the man, impress him with his intelligence and witty banter when his hand slips and the icy remnants of his cocktail spill all over the bar, bits of ice cube and lime shooting directly into his lap.

Great, perfect timing.

Harry squeaks as he tries to clean up the mess on the bar, which is quite difficult when all they give you are those tiny square napkins that are practically half a ply.

He tries to signal to the bartender to ask for more, but there’s been a rush of people at the other side of the bar and Harry has to make do with using his hand to sweep the mess into his empty glass.

He feels like he’s been pretty successful but as he gets up he realizes an ice cube has dropped directly onto his crotch. Fine, he’ll just have to meet his future husband with wet trousers. That should work out perfectly.

He dabs at his trousers quickly with the edge of his sweater, trying to dry himself out. He thinks he’s done a pretty good job when he surveys his work after a few minutes and hopes the dark lights in the bar make up for what he can’t dry.

Here goes nothing, Harry thinks to himself, straightening out his slightly wrinkled sweater and fluffing up his hair, ready to make his move on the stranger. He looks up and all the air is knocked out of his body.

The stranger is missing from across the bar. His beer is still there, but it’s empty and there’s no coaster on top of it to signify he’s gone to the loo or outside and plans to come back. Instead, another bloke is sitting in the barstool and Harry feels annoyance and disappointment start to tickle at his consciousness. He scans the room once, twice, and nothing.

“Well that’s what you get, Harry,” he says to himself, clenching his jaw. He just spent an hour waiting around to make a move when he was right there and now he’s gone. His soulmate, off into the cold London night.

No point in staying now that the stranger is gone.

It’s not that he’s even a fan of bars like this usually. It’s a new place, a bit too crowded, the people around him significantly younger. He was just checking it out since Zayn and Liam had been raving about it for the last few months. He was only really expecting to be here for maybe 20 minutes, especially since he was alone.

That was before the stranger of course.

It’s now been almost two hours and Harry feels like a guest overstaying their welcome.

He’s finally gathering his belongings to about to hit the loo before he leaves when there’s a gentle touch on his shoulder.

Harry flips around and wow, there he is.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” The stranger asks and Harry swears he short circuits for a moment. He’s been staring at him from across the bar all night and he still doesn’t feel prepared to see him this close up. He gazes at the stranger for what probably is an inappropriately long amount of time, eyes catching on things he hadn't noticed when he was sitting so far away.

There’s a bit of a tattoo poking out of the top of his shirt and he’s shorter than Harry. He’s got on white vans, but there’s a little smiley face with x’s for eyes on the toes of both, clearly drawn in pen. His jeans are practically painted on his body and Harry feels his heart skip a beat when he sees the stranger’s thighs.

“Mate?” The stranger interrupts, that smile Harry had been admiring quirking up at face as he stares quizzically. His hand is still on Harry’s shoulder and holy shit, this guy is just his type.

He opens his mouth to say “no, please sit” but then...

“Did you know that center bit of citrus fruit is called a juice sac?”

The man cocks his head cutely, confusion coloring his face.

“Oh, yes! I mean no, no you can sit here.” Harry sputters, “The seat is open.” He can feel his face getting redder and redder. There’s no way in hell this specimen is going to sit down now that Harry’s gone and said the work ‘sac’.

But he just smiles and straddles the stool next to Harry’s.

“Juice sac, eh?”

“Oh, yeah. I never knew what it was called,” Harry mutters, unable to keep from word vomiting about citrus fruit to this gorgeous man, “like they have a rind and stuff, but I didn’t know if the middle had a name.”

“Huh, that’s pretty interesting. You learn something new every day, I guess.” He says. “Oh, and speaking of names, I’m Louis Tomlinson.” The man, Louis, says with a smile, reaching his hand out to Harry.

Louis Tomlinson. Beautiful.

“Harry Styles,” he says, taking Louis’ hand and shaking it lightly. There’s a buzz of energy that zaps through Harry’s veins as they touch. He was right all along. Louis Tomlinson gets him going, and he’s probably his soulmate.

“You know, you’re not as subtle as you think you are”. Louis says

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone stare with that much intensity before,” Louis explains as he calls over the bartender he had been chatting with earlier.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry replies as casually as he can.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” Louis explains. “You sort of look like a frog. A very attractive frog, mind you.”

Harry’s not sure he can handle comments like that without audibly screaming so he’s glad when the bartender reappears before he can open his mouth.

“Gin and tonic?” Louis asks, nodding at the empty glass in front of him.

“Uh, yes.”

“Two, please,” Louis says, passing over his credit card to the bartender. “Thanks mate!”

“So, Harry Styles. Tell me about yourself.”

* ˚ ✵ · . ✵ +

Harry’s not sure how long it’s been since Louis sat down next to him. He’s not sure what he did to get so lucky. He is sure that he’s never felt this way before, though.

The conversation has been easy and Harry’s pleased that the banter that he was so hoping would come, actually does. Louis’ quick and fun and funny and likes to tease him, which makes Harry feel both incredibly special and incredibly horny.

Harry also feels sort of lovesick and warm, especially because Louis and he have been inching closer and closer together on their stools all night, knees brushing against one another as they fall even further into their conversation.

The bar is alive around them, completely packed, but Harry barely notices anything but Louis.

“I’ve got to say,” Harry says, after a lull in their conversation, “I’m pretty glad you came over to this side of the bar, Louis."

“Well, I’ve got to say,” Louis replies, “I’m pretty glad you can’t control your staring, Harry.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Harry blushes, “you’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

And for the first time all night, Louis is the one who’s blushing, mouth flopping closed as he smiles sweetly. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Harry responds, and then, with the most confidence he can muster, bolstered by the shy smile Louis is sending him, Harry leans across the bar and fits his lips against Louis’. The touch is soft and sweet, and he can feel Louis sigh against his lips as they slot together. Harry can only really describe it as a perfect fit.

Louis tastes a lot like beer and gin and a little like smoke, but there’s also the spark of something else that makes Harry want to chase the taste forever.

He reaches up to grip at the back of Louis’ neck, bringing him closer and thumbing at his soft hair. Harry licks into his mouth with a low groan as he feels Louis’ hands find a home against his hips, his thumbs sneaking under the edge of his sweater, caressing his skin. The touch steadies Harry, brings him back down to earth a bit. His lips are wet against Louis’ and every few seconds, Louis will grip his thumbs a bit harder into Harry’s skin, sending bursts of arousal deep into his body.

It felt like ages that Harry waited for Louis’ touch. Now that it’s here, he can’t help but bury himself into the feeling, hoping Louis feels it too. From the way that Louis is reacting to his own touch, Harry's pretty sure he feels something similar.

Acutely aware that he’s getting louder and louder by the minute, Harry tries to get himself under control.

Moans and whines that were once hidden in his mind have been escaping, adding to the cacophony of noises in the bar. He feels Louis smile against his lips and then they’re separating. Harry keeps his eyes closed as they detach, smiles back at Louis when he feels him drop one, two, three kisses to his lips.

“I can’t believe I just snogged a man whose opening line was about juice sacs,” Louis says, dropping another kiss to his lips as Harry finally cracks his eyes open.

He can feel his cheeks flush and Louis just laughs, his face fond.

“You maybe want to get out of here, fruit boy?” Louis asks.

Harry nods frantically, which makes Louis laugh again, not unkindly. Never unkindly.

Louis doesn’t stop holding his hand as they settle up with the bartender, doesn’t stop as they put on their coats and make their way into the gloomy London night. Harry doesn’t even notice the cold, not when Louis is plastered against his side, muttering next to him as they walk to the nearest tube stop, pausing every few steps to kiss him again.

When they finally get on the train, Harry’s feeling both comfortable and infuriated. Comfortable, because Louis’ hand in his keeps him grounded in this moment and makes him feel so very happy. Infuriated, because they’re squished so close together on the seat and Louis’ hand is on his back, hidden from the other passengers. He keeps dipping his fingers into Harry’s trousers, gently rubbing against the downy hair of his lower back, dropping closer and closer to where Harry is desperate to be touched.

Harry has to clench his jaw to keep from audibly begging Louis to touch him and he knows that Louis finds it all very amusing, which is very rude. There’s an underlying fever of anticipation pooling in Harry’s gut so he silently begs the train to move faster.

When their stop is finally announced, Harry jolts up, pulling Louis behind him and up the stairs back into the cold.

“You okay?” Louis asks once they’re above ground, grinning mischievously.

“Who, me?” Harry responds, “Of course. I’m perfect. Just peachy.”

Louis pulls Harry back into his arms, his touch gentle.

“Seems like it,” he whispers, kissing Harry again. It’s slower this time, and Harry falls into it easily. He wraps his arms around Louis and sighs.

Louis drops his lips to Harry’s neck and whispers, “Take me home.”

* ˚ ✵ · . ✵ +

They fall into Harry’s flat five minutes later with the amount of grace you’d expect from two people who are buzzed and in a lust-filled panic, knocking over shoes and coats in the entryway. Harry can’t find it in himself to be even the slightest bit bothered because the person doing the majority of the knocking over is Louis and that’s all his brain is registering right now.

“Been wanting to do this all night, Louis, you have no idea.” Harry whispers as Louis launches himself back at Harry once the door is closed and locked behind them, “I never want to stop touching you.”

He’s grasping at Louis wherever he possibly can and Louis just groans out a “God, Harry, please,” in return.

“Bedroom?” Harry asks, separating from Louis’ lips for a moment.

“Yes, now.” Louis breathes out and Harry is so turned on he’s not sure if his body is actually listening to his brain. Louis doesn’t make a move to find the bedroom and just attaches his lips to Harry’s neck and he doesn’t have a choice but to pick up and hoist Louis against him, lest they start fucking against the coatrack.

Louis yelps as Harry brings him into his arms, thick thighs squeezing around Harry as he maneuvers him into his arms. Harry has a grip on his bum, and he kneads it a few times before he begins moving through his flat, finally depositing a flushed Louis onto his king-sized bed gently, in stark contrast to how they entered the flat.

As soon as Louis’ against the bed; Harry’s back on him, redoubling in his efforts to make him as flushed and hard as possible. Louis is squirming underneath him, fidgeting against Harry’s body as they rut against each other.

“Off, off,” Harry breathes, grasping the bottom of Louis’ shirt and pulling it over his head.

The sight beneath him is so much better than he would have ever imagined. Louis' tattoos crisp and dark against golden skin and his chest covered in a smattering of hair that Harry knows he won’t ever get over. He has a chest piece and Harry whimpers a bit as he scans his eyes across the “It Is What It Is” only thinking about how much he wants to lick it or maybe mark it up. Just a bit.

He’s frozen for a minute, looking down at Louis’ body, his chest heaving.

“Harry, come on.” Louis whines, reaching out to the buttons on Harry’s trousers. He crashes back to reality at the feeling of deft fingers on his buttons and suddenly, he’s being flipped over, Louis above him.

Harry can feel the hard line of Louis’ cock from where he’s sitting atop of him and he thrusts up a little.

“Easy, tiger,” Louis laughs, “patience is a virtue.”

“Shut up.” Harry groans. Patience can go die in a hole.

“Your turn, fruit boy.” Louis grins, grabbing at the edge of Harry’s sweater. “Wanna see you.”

Harry complies, letting Louis rip the sweater off his body, throwing it across the room in the same vicinity as Louis’ forgotten shirt.

“Mmm, look at you,” Louis says, voice impossibly low as he runs his hands across Harry’s chest, dipping his fingers down to press into the laurels tattooed on both of his hips. He drops his face down, kissing softly across his body, stopping to lathe over his nipples.

Harry feels like his heart is about to fall out of his body, unable to stop his hips from bucking up to find the friction he so desperately wants. He tries to be patient, he really does, but he can only whine and beg for Louis' touch.

“Come on Lou, kiss me.”

Louis must not be able to ignore a request like that so he ducks up from where he’s been sucking a love bite into Harry’s left hip and captures Harry’s lips with his own. They fit together like they were always meant to be this close, kissing desperately until Louis detaches slowly from Harry and trails his lips down his body once again, stopping to run his teeth against Harry’s nipples.

Harry’s grasping his sheets like a vice now, because clearly, Louis isn’t teasing anymore. He feels the air leave his lungs as Louis finishes unbuttoning Harry’s trousers, pulling the fabric down his legs.

“Love your legs, Harry,” Louis says after he’s pulled the trousers completely off Harry’s body. “So strong, so long,” he whispers, kissing at the inside of Harry’s left thigh before he travels back up Harry’s body to kiss his lips again.

Then, Louis finally, finally fits his thumbs in the elastic of Harry’s pants, pulling them down slowly, torturously. His cock springs out and all Harry can muster up is a low groan, relief and anticipation rattling through his bones. It feels like he’s never been this hard in his life.

“Fuck. Yes, Louis,” Harry groans, eyes drooping as Louis wraps his hand around Harry’s cock.

“God Harry, you’re so fit,” Louis whispers, “Can’t get enough of you.” And then he’s dropping completely down and fitting his mouth over the head of Harry’s cock, bobbing up and down as he takes almost all of him deep into his mouth.

All he can do is moan loudly as Louis slurps, his lips tight as he takes more and more of Harry inside his mouth. He sucks him hard and without complaint like he’s a goodman pro, twisting his lips and slurping him up.

His tongue is confident against the underside of his cock and Harry would be quite happy to just melt away into his mattress at this point.

Louis’ got one hand on the base of Harry’s cock, stroking what he can’t fit in his mouth and the other hand is dipping beneath Harry, lightly grazing his sensitive balls and finding a home against Harry’s hole.

"Oh god, Louis I’m gonna come if you don’t stop,” Harry groans.

Louis drops Harry’s cock from his mouth, “That’s the plan,” he replies, before dipping back down and sucking him harder and farther into his mouth.

Harry moans again. He resists the urge to just let go and instead pulls a bit at Louis’ hair. “Louis, babe. I want you to fuck me.”

Louis’ head pops up again at that, and Harry can see he’s grinning as he catches his breath. His lips are red and wet and Harry can see himself all over his face. There's a renewed pull of arousal within him at the sight and he has to pinch his thigh to keep from coming.

“Fuck, are you sure?” Louis asks.

“Please,” Harry nods. “And get your fucking clothes off.”

Louis grins and removes the rest of his clothes as Harry reaches over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer frantically and reaching for the bottle of lube he keeps on hand.

He throws it across the bed to Louis, who’s standing naked as he pulls off his socks. Harry bites his lip as Louis’ body stretches. His thighs are thick and strong and his cock is thick and strong and everything about him is beautiful.

“You ready?” Louis asks as he places a pillow underneath Harry’s hips to make him more comfortable.

“Yes,” Harry replies, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. He’s never felt so ready in his life.

Louis just smiles and lowers his mouth to Harry’s body again. He gives Harry’s cock a kiss and his balls a kiss and then...

“Ohmyg–”

Louis’ hands are spreading Harry’s arse cheeks apart now, tongue flattening against his hole, licking him in earnest. Harry throws a hand over his face, trying to muffle the noises he’s making against his skin.

“Sweetheart, I want to hear you,” Louis says, voice so deep and fucking arousing that Harry’s sure the whole world can hear the wail of pleasure that comes from deep within him as Louis takes Harry’s hand in his and does something with his tongue that Harry wants repeated for the rest of his life.

“Lou –, Lou –, ” Harry can barely speak, he’s so overwhelmed. “Please, inside me.”

Louis pulls off loudly and reaches for the lube, coating his fingers and Harry’s hole generously. He brings a finger up, circling Harry’s hole, and then it sinks in. Louis brings the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth as he pushes his finger deeper, getting Harry used to the stretch.

He’s not sure how Louis isn’t losing his mind right now because he feels the most turned on he’s ever felt, crying out as Louis slips another finger alongside the first, pumping in slowly as he brings his mouth back down to his rim, licking and sucking around the two fingers that are buried deep inside him.

When Louis finally adds a third finger and finds that sweet spot inside Harry, he wails, thighs trembling as Louis pushes into him, his other hand steady against the love bite on his hip, holding Harry’s body down.

“I’m ready, please,” Harry says, lifting his head to find Louis’ eyes.

Louis gives him a fond look and slips his fingers out of Harry, kissing him quietly before reaching for the lube again. He can feel himself wiggle with impatience, but Louis just grins at him with a feral smile. Then, after what feels like a century of waiting, Louis sidles up to Harry’s body, maneuvering him closer to the edge of the bed.

Harry looks down as Louis gets closer to him, watches him line up the head of his cock with his own, puffy hole, circling it a few times before he starts to push in.

“Oh god, Harry,” Louis moans, his voice straining as he pushes in slowly, so slowly, stopping every inch to gauge Harry’s reaction. Harry can only sob and shake in return, hands clasped around Louis’ back, trying to push him in faster and harder.

“Come here,” Harry says and Louis lowers his head to kiss him, bodies flushed together as Louis finally bottoms out. Harry squeezes around the thick length of Louis’ cock inside him and Louis gasps.

They kiss a few times, messy and rough as Harry gets comfortable with the feeling of Louis inside him.

“Fuck me, Louis.”

“As you wish,” Louis says and then he’s really going at it, grabbing at Harry’s hips with a tight grip and thrusting into him fast and hard.

Harry has no idea how long Louis’ been pumping inside him, has no idea if he’s crying or shaking or if he’s even making any noise at all because all he can feel is Louis deep inside him, hitting at his prostate with every thrust. Louis is moaning out Harry’s name as he fucks into him and Harry feels like he’s been on the cusp of orgasm since he first saw Louis all those hours ago.

“I’m gonna-” Harry whines, unable to even utter another word. Louis fucks into him even harder and wraps his hand around his cock.

He strokes once, twice, and then Harry loses it.

He cries out as he comes, moaning Louis’ name and squeezing his eyes shut. He shivers uncontrollably as he spurts between them, Louis’ cock inside him faltering as he feels Louis lose control. He forces his eyes open and watches as Louis comes, body shaking above Harry’s, pulling Harry in for a kiss as he thrusts a few more times into him.

They come down slowly, chests heaving and movements sluggish before Louis is sliding out of Harry slowly. He feels almost sad at being so empty, but then Louis is back with a towel from the bathroom and is cleaning him up with a smile and he doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

“You’re quite pretty when you come, sweetheart,” Louis whispers, as they settle into the bed together.

Harry blushes.

“Cuddle?” He asks, and Louis just nods as he pulls Harry into his chest, fitting the duvet over their still naked bodies, spooning together happily.

“Night, Harry,” Louis whispers, but Harry’s already fallen asleep; puffing out soft breaths, fingers curled tightly over Louis’.

* ˚ ✵ · . ✵ +

When the morning comes, there’s still a heavy arm curled around Harry’s stomach, fingers gently making shapes against his skin.

“Morning, my little spoon,” Louis whispers into his ear.

Harry smiles and snuggles back into the warm comfort of Louis’ body. He picks Louis’ hand off his stomach and traces the ‘2’ and the ‘8’ on his fingers, bringing Louis’ hand to his mouth and gently kissing the silver band that now sits on Louis’ ring finger.

“Last night was fun, babe,” Louis says against his neck, dropping a kiss against the soft skin there.

Harry hums in agreement, head still fuzzy with sleep.

“It was fun,” he replies, turning over in bed so that he’s flush against Louis’ torso, bodies touching at every single point. He looks up into Louis’ eyes, so blue from the light that streams through their bedroom window, hazy and yellow.

“Should we do it again sometime? Maybe somewhere else, like a cafe or a bookstore?” Louis asks, intertwining his hand with Harry’s.

“Mmmm, I don’t know. Makes me feel a little weird seeing that finger so naked.” Harry replies, giving Louis’ silver ring another kiss.

“Sentimental bastard,” murmurs Louis, thumbing at the crease in Harry’s eyebrows with his free hand.

“Oi! I’m not the only one!” Harry responds, “I told you we should try to refrain from going up to each other for at least two hours. You came over like 45 minutes in!”

“Well, fine then. The next time we roleplay as strangers, you need to stop being so cute and try not to stare at me so much! It took everything in me not to break character when you kept going on about juice sacs.”

“Hey!” Harry gasps, “I’ll have you know that just yesterday, I listened to a fascinating podcast episode about citrus fruit so that knowledge was just floating at the top of my brain. It’s not my fault that you still make me nervous, even when I’m supposed to be a charming stranger!”

“Aw darling, you’re always charming.” Louis giggles, kissing the incredulous look right off Harry’s face. “Anyways, I’ve got to say I agree. Wasn’t too pleased seeing your wedding ring on your right hand instead of in its rightful spot on my favorite finger. At least you get to see our wedding date on my fingers, even when I'm not wearing the ring."

Harry brings his left hand up to Louis’ chest, dropping it against his tattoos, ring back on its rightful finger. He sighs loudly as he watches it shine in the morning sunlight.

“Yeah, it really is meant for this finger, isn’t it,” Harry says.

“It really is.” Louis replies, “glad I put a ring on it.”

“I’m glad you did too.”

**Author's Note:**

>   
> I hope you guys liked it! And the lil twist :) It was vaguely inspired by the beginning of the movie 'Four Christmases'.   
> Title is from 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face' by Roberta Flack.  
>    
> Kudos/comments are cherished and appreciated if you feel so motivated.  
>    
> I'm on tumblr as cocoalou so please come chat with me [here!](https://cocoalou.tumblr.com/) I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings and YES, this is just 5000 words of Harry mooning over Louis, which totally tracks.  
>    
> You can also reblog the fic moodboard [here!](https://cocoalou.tumblr.com/post/623137002840375296/title-the-first-time-ever-i-saw-your-face-author)  
>    
> 


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